


#deep

by Dragon_Halfblood7722



Category: None - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Other, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:21:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24012007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_Halfblood7722/pseuds/Dragon_Halfblood7722
Summary: I wrote this in 8th grade for a creative writing assignment, and totally forgot about it. I found it in my Google docs and I was going through them to see if I could find any short stories I already written, and I found these! I surprised myself actually. I was shocked and had to check to make sure I actually wrote them and not a friend that just shared it with me. But, surprisingly, I actually did write them and I decided to post them here to get some feedback on them. So enjoy this little insight into my life and leave your feedback in the comments!Ps if you comment, I’ll respond to u, even if it’s only a emoji. And I’ll go read one of ur story’s, if u have one.
Relationships: None
Kudos: 2





	#deep

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me how u can or can’t relate to these. I’d like to see how alike or unalike I am to the people of AoOO! 
> 
> Also, if u find any grammatical errors please tell me and I’ll fix them.

I am thoughtful. Ideas rush frantically around my head trying desperately to be heard. They jump around my brain pounding on my skull. Thump, thump, thump. They want to leap out of my mouth, they plead to be heard, but as the words crawl to the tip of my tongue trying to escape, I quickly swallow them back down without a sound. My brain is stained with my thoughts as if someone snatched up cans of vibrantly colored paint and splattered the inside my head. My head is crammed full of stories, people, places, and ideas displayed for nobody's eyes but mine. As I flop down in my cozy bed each night, my thoughts screech in my ears preventing me from drifting off to sleep. Their constant chatter keeps me up all night long. Sometimes I gaze up at the ceiling, soundlessly begging them to stop and let me get some sleep.  
People assume things about me. They assume that just because I don’t talk a lot that I’m not thinking about anything. They assume that I’m shy, simple, and short sighted. But they don’t know. They have never heard my thoughts. They have never seen the entire world that lives in my head. My head is full of gears constantly grinding and trying to figure things out, to know the truth. They will not take no for an answer. They ponder every possibility, every what if, and every way. Sometimes my thoughts eventually creep to my fingertips and sneak out my pencil, spilling out onto my paper as I am daydreaming. They pour out as swift as possible giving my hand barely enough time to keep up with them.  
As I walk down a cramped, noisy street or a jampacked hall full of students, I study people. I study their faces, their expressions, their quirks. I wonder who they are, what they have seen, where they have been. I wonder what their darkest secrets are, what their brightest hopes and dreams are. I can’t help but think about these things. My brain demands to know. It demands to be heard. It will not be ignored. My thoughts won’t ever turn off. I search my head high and low, looking for that bright red power button, but I can never seem to find it; so my thoughts continue to whisper, talk, and even yell twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Very rarely do my actions echo my thoughts.  
There is a hidden world in my head designed specifically, and only for me. I leave the real world and go there when I get bored, annoyed, tired, or just sick of the real world I have to live in. My dreams, my fears, my secrets, and my curiosities all live in the world upstairs, and I visit them all regularly. That world is mine and only mine. I am the ruler, the queen, the goddess. Every time I go up there I learn new things that I didn’t even know about myself. I go there to escape, to be free, to just ignore the other world. I find myself up there an awful lot, even when I shouldn’t be. I ditch math class in the middle of the period until I am abruptly dragged back to earth as the teacher calls on me, or as the deafening bell rings. I sigh wishing I could have just stayed there. My thoughts can be loud, they can be comforting, they can be quiet, but they can never quite be SILENT. They can be curious, demanding, confused, desperate, but never satisfied. I have always been and always will be a thoughtful person whether I like it or not. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m always thinking. There is constantly a pouring waterfall of thoughts rushing through my head, making me dizzy. It just keeps filling up until it finally overflows and you can tell almost exactly what I’m thinking just by looking at my face. Sometimes my thoughts are too much for me to handle. Then I break down like a worn out car and have to go get fixed. I am repaired but am never as good as I once was. My experiences and travels have given me dents and scratches. I have crashed and fallen many times. I can never be healed. I can never forget. I don’t want to forget. I am who I am because of my memories. I was made from stolen parts, and I wasn’t made by a very kind man, but I am content with who I am. I know that I am a good person. I try my hardest and don’t always succeed. But I try. I know when I won’t be the best at something. But still I try. I try to be the best me I can be. I don’t get insecure about myself anymore. I don’t compare myself to other girls anymore. I’m just me, and there is no way to change my short height or my different personality. I am who I am and there is no changing that. So there is no point in feeling bad about myself. It is best to just embrace it. Now I actually like who I am. I am proud of my few accomplishments… I am happy. Which is saying a lot because so many things have happened these past few years. I have changed. I’m not who I used to be. I don’t even know the person I was. I’m not the me I will be in a year or even a month from now. I will keep changing, and so will the people around me. The friends I have now might not be my friends later in life. I am afraid of everything around me changing. I like the way things are right now. I wish they could stay this way forever. I can already notice how many things are different just in the last week. Sometimes I wish we could just go back to how things used to be, when things were better, when all we did was laugh and have a good time. But things are different now. Things have changed. People judge you for everything. It’s wrong, but I judge people too. It’s the world i have grown up in. I wish people didn’t feel that they have to pretend to be someone else just to fit in. I was that girl. I tried so hard to impress people. I wore what they liked, not what I liked. I almost lost myself trying to feel accepted. I almost forgot who I really am. Now, I am me. Now I don’t care what people think, and I have made some of the best friends because of it. They like me for me. They accept my strange personality and like all of my quirks that I hated for so long. So many things about me made me different, and the people I chose to surround myself with led me to believe that different was bad. Now I love everything that makes me me. I like my weirdness and the fun times that come with it. I am so much happier than I was a year ago.

**Author's Note:**

> So, some of the stuff said in these passages are not exactly true. For example the stuff about me trying to fit into others ideas of perfection, me wearing the clothes they liked and not what I liked, I actually can’t remember ever feeling like that. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to sound insensitive, but I think when I wrote this I was just trying to put more emotion into it, so I exaggerated some events. So yeah. Do enjoy and leave ur feedback in the comments! (If ur curious or confused please make it now and I’ll try and answer your questions!)


End file.
